Jeffry Mitchell

On a rainy evening in Seattle, after a thoroughly decadent afternoon, Seattle artist Jeffry Mitchell discussed how his unique process of creating, giving, and exchange has brought him a deep sense of belonging, security, and peace. 

Describe what you do?

Well, I say I make work that comes from decorative and folk traditions…or that is in line with that. I make objects that are really personal and autobiographical or about my relationships with people. I think of the things I make as gifts, or occasion things, or things that commemorate - which ceramics does so well. I see it as a kind of currency - like something to trade…for diplomatic reasons, for loving reasons, for survival…or just for trade. Often times it’s not for money, not with my work so much, I trade or give a gift to ingratiate myself or to create a stronger friendship…I hope for that kind of thing. Or I hope that people will think, you know, good of me… that kind of thing. For as little money power that I have, I think I have a different form of currency. I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way until later in my life, but that’s what that was. That’s something I could do with meager means, and it’s created a kind of rich scene, with wonderful friends. It’s good. Actually I think it’s kind of rad…I never thought of it as a ‘fuck the man’ kind of thing, but it is kind of a subversive way of getting around some of the more traditional expectations for a man my age.

Do you say you’re a ceramicist?

No. I make ceramics and I make drawings and I say I’m an artist - which was a hard thing to get to… I just made that decision in ‘82 or ’83, when I was in Japan. I was spending all my free time making art - making work on Japanese paper with ink and I thought; the only person that needs to decide they are an artist, is the artist. You can get an art degree and all that stuff, but it’s up to the artist to claim it. It seems daunting but in fact I think it’s not that big a risk. You really are an artist if you say you are. And then you can say whether or not you’re any good, but that’s a judgment. So I say I’m an artist. I don’t say I’m a craftsperson, I don’t say that I’m a potter; I do call myself an artist. It is nice to call yourself an artist because then you don’t have to dance around it. In my culture, of working class America, it’s not well understood what an artist is….it’s uhmm “I kind of might know what that means? Or it’s “Picasso or Michelangelo” - something really big out there in the world. It’s really interesting to think about who gives you permission to claim it. 

I mainly make figurines, which is a kind of sculpture to me. I think the most interesting thing about my stuff is how the figures interact with something else. I think that when I make a figure it gains it’s meaning by comparison…comparing it to something else that that’s very familiar…so whatever the difference is between figurines that are from your life - say public sculpture or an equestrian monumental thing or a Victorian domestic decorative type thing or something from the European tradition, in the church or in the civic realm - when you see my things meaning comes through it’s particular difference from those things that had meaning for you from the world. In my mind at least, they all meld into one thing… specifically if they are of a certain ilk.

Do you consciously draw from those things?

Yeah, sure I do, I look at them…look at all these books! Actually, what I’m drawing from are precedents from that kind of work, early 20th century late 19th century, sort of mass produced things that I saw in my grandparents house that where copying from other precedents that might have been copying some other precedents. 

The motifs that you pick are autobiographical symbols?

Yes, but it’s not that conscious -I don’t say I going to make a bunch of autobiographical symbols and I’m choosing the elephant – it’s just a default or an unconscious automatic thing. I helplessly make the same thing over and over. I choose it because that’s the one that seems good to me. Or I don’t know what else to do, so that’s the one that is a known comfort.

Is it soothing?

Yeah, it is soothing. And then it’s sometimes detestable because you see your self repeating things and you think, ohh fuck, boring or lame or something, I’m so predictable! It’s funny, when you review things that you have done, that you’re aware of, you hold in your mind a memory of what that thing is and what those qualities are. When I encounter the work again - at first I’m kind of delighted or tickled that someone would care about this thing and then I think - oh that’s better than I remember it or oh that’s not so good - most of the time the memory I have of it is different than how it is.

Evaluation always comes into play. I think when you’re making something you want to pump it full or add value to it. I do think there is rumination, there’s reflection, there’s working out ethos, and asking yourself, what do you care about? Then you experiment and test things and you evaluate and there is also this process of just dancing or exercising where you do not evaluate. What I like is that…because art is conserved, not always but sometimes, you can have an experience with a work of art over many years in your life. Or you can encounter something that suddenly becomes valued or the center of attention for the art world or the curatorial world or museum world or something and you see these things that are objects that you’re not aware of but then someone pulls it into the light. And then you’re like whoa. It’s like a little chip of hope being put out into the universe and it is possible that it gets actualized. I guess I’m always searching for some kind of value when I make things.

How does it help you emotionally or psychologically?

It’s therapeutic. Mainly because you can encounter your nature again and again and again and actually bring it back to what you can do to change it…and not do the externalizing or pinning blame on others…it’s a great practice for that. For that it’s really valuable. If you work at it and are honest…the world is unfair. I get that and not everyone is dealt the same hand and not everyone will achieve wealth and fame and stuff, but I do think, at least in my experience, and I’m not wealthy or famous, but I have had this chance to do the same things or repeat habitual behavior and I can really see it! Yet again I have another deadline, and yet again I’m procrastinating, or yet again I’m trying to please somebody, or yet again I’m jealous of so and so…all those things that make life miserable. You know what I mean? It gives you a chance to own them and the more you own them, I think, the more it’s possible to change and the more you change your behavior, do to your own will, the more you can own that success of making a change…success is a difficult word, but you can feel an agency in your own life – and that’s therapeutic.  

I think it’s worrisome sometimes because there’s so little security in it, but I also think it’s great! You learn a lot and meet great people that build their own lives and that’s an interesting crowd to hang with. You build your own life and you make those kinds of decisions and you don’t expect to make money, you might have ambition, but you don’t expect to make money…you get what I’m saying? It’s a good crowd to hang with, even though there is jealousy and competition or really strong objections to certain works, I don’t think I could cut it in other worlds. I do have the metal to spend time alone and ruminate and make things and even process my own issues and traumas and fears and things like that. I wouldn’t characterize myself as a confidant person, but I think being an artist brought me to a place of peace and it’s been through that rumination and that processing of fears that brought me there.

What does the actual making process do for you?

I know that when I work all day, with actual making and not just thinking…even though there is value in doing nothing and stomping around the studio and doing sort of peripheral work - it gives you a satisfaction that you did your day’s work. I still have that work ethic or model in me that thinks - it’s nice to have a product! I think it’s important to spend time making stuff in the presence of myself…I think it’s a good idea to spend a lot of time with your work with no expectation or explanation or need to sell it, you know what I mean? I make a lot of stuff and I do think it’s a good thing or a healthy thing and I’m proud of that. I do have a strong binary Christian imprint where things are evaluated as better or worse, good or bad…which I would like to move away from and maybe I have? The failure is essential and crucial and part of the whole thing. But even calling it failure and success seems dubious. I think you can’t be conclusive and certain about this kind of thing, but as activities go it’s rich. 

As a way to spend your days and use your body and your mental or spiritual energy, it’s pretty good. The rewards are good you know… the exchange. It just seems healthy. Specifically to my karmic issues of value and worth, and place in the world, and contribution. I can really see something that’s uniquely mine moving into the world and I can own that and I can reap the psychic benefit of other people's evaluation of that kind of thing… and that’s been very therapeutic… if your uncertain of your place in the world and your own value or sense of contribution… art making seems good. 

More of Jeffry's work can be found here.